>>at
a
fairly naive 22,
I allowed myself to be seduced by a married professor.I was in love. I didn't expect or want
him to leave his wife; I just wanted to be the last
woman he loved. I wanted to have an affair like the
one my uncle had had for over 30 years. Everyone in
the family, including his wife and son, knew about it.
My cousin respected the relationship, but my aunt, who
stayed in the marriage, was embittered by it. Meanwhile,
my uncle would take his son, his brother's children,
his wife, and his mistress with him on holidays, putting
the wife and children in one room, taking one himself,
and reserving one for his mistress. His mistress remained
his beautiful companion, his confidante, his lover,
and his soul mate. I felt for my aunt, felt badly that
she suffered, but I respected my uncle's need to keep
a mistress with whom he felt a deeper intimacy. In my
own confused 22-year-old mind, I wanted to re-create
with my professor the romance of my uncle's affair.
But he was not Indian and his was not an arranged marriage.
This was America and my professor had two more students
on the side. I was transgressing boundaries of marriage,
class, race, and my own sexuality. For me, an unmarried
Indian woman, having an affair brings shame on myself
and my family and diminishes my marital prospects dramatically.
But I don't think adultery is bad or unnatural. It can
certainly be damaging to a partner who is unprepared
for it, but it can also provide a necessary escape and
keep a marriage together, especially an arranged marriage.

Writing
this piece was difficult. I wondered what my family
would say when they read it, what judgments I would
bring upon myself if I said that adultery isn't quite
so awful, if I spoke of my own affair for the first
time. I have generally been private about my sexual
life because I want to maintain my own and my parents'
"honor." I reasoned that if they knew about the relationship,
they would wonder where they had failed in my moral
upbringing. But I never felt guilty about the affair
--it allowed me to express myself sexually without getting
caught up in the romantic expectations and desires of
marriage, which is supposed to be the culmination of
my womanhood. The affair helped me see the shades of
gray between right and wrong. I understood that adult
relations are very complex, and that all couples aren't
like my parents, who have a very happy and successful
arranged marriage.

I
have generally been private about my sexual life because
I want to maintain my own and my parents' "honor."

At
18, I watched my dear friend Shobha agonize as her boyfriend
went through an arranged marriage in India, only to
return and pick up the relationship again. He insisted
that he had married to please his parents but that he
was in love with Shobha. The liaison continued well
after his wife had arrived from India. Shobha would
hang out with large groups of friends and watch them
silently, yearning to be in the place of his wife. Too
many of the South Asian men I have known maintained
their relationships with girlfriends while allowing
their parents to find pure and dutiful brides from India.
For the girlfriend, it's a risky compromise, because
she could end up without a husband or her virginity.
In college, my girlfriends and I faced some interesting
dilemmas. We could date South Asian men and hope that
they wouldn't leave to marry women chosen by their parents,
or we could date outside of our culture. I opted for
the latter and worked to develop an autonomous, politicized
sexual identity. From time to time, the words of a dear
South Asian male friend ring in my ears. He would tell
me that I am much too strong a woman, that I would find
Indian men willing to have affairs with me, but not
marry me. So far it has proven true.

I
wonder what it must be like to wake up with the same
person every day. I have many friends who are close
and dear, yet over time I move closer or further apart
from different people at different moments. Is it natural
for two human beings to grow together and fulfill each
other's needs forever? I wonder if the institution of
marriage is even relevant anymore. During a lifetime,
won't another person come along who touches you differently,
in a space that your partner does not occupy?

I
could allow my family to arrange my marriage, but I
have shied away from this time and again, hoping to
find a partner on my own.

Having
said all this, the reality is that I wake up lonely
in the mornings and the struggle within myself continues.
I could allow my family to arrange my marriage, but
I have shied away from this time and again, hoping to
find a partner on my own. I know many South Asian women
like myself, who are unwilling to compromise on our
autonomy, who would like to be in relationships with
South Asian men, yet are unable to find any who will
accept us as political women with spirit, intellect,
and sensuality. Though there are strong and independent
women in my family who have divorced and successfully
remarried, none of them have grown to sexual adulthood
in the States, a difference that shows in how we perceive
our bodies and our sexuality. As women between cultures,
my friends and I usually end up in nontraditional relationships,
often with as much access to adulterous relationships
as men.

I
think of my downstairs neighbor Nadia, a Punjabi Pakistani
woman. She is in her thirties now, and has a daughter
of eight or ten. She came to America about ten years
ago when she married Rafiq. I wondered about Nadia when
she moved into the building, wondered if she chose to
marry a man almost 20 years her senior. She did not
seem very happy. Shortly after their marriage, Rafiq
had an accident and became disabled. Then, a few years
ago, I heard whisperings in the building from my mother
and the neighbors that Nadia had taken up with some
man. I remember thinking that it made sense. Nadia is
still married and maintains her relationship with her
lover. I see them sometimes in the subway and restaurants,
kissing and holding each other, the space between them
small and charged with sexual energy. We don't acknowledge
each other unless it is in the building. In that place
of familiarity, we smile at each other, two women in
a small community in America where we can dare to transgress,
to exert autonomy over our sexual selves in ways we
may be unable to do in India or Pakistan for fear of
our reputations, our families, and even our lives. I
don't begrudge Nadia or her lover. If anything, it pleases
me that she is able to find happiness.

I
understand the desire of some in my community to remain
in a socially sanctioned marriage that provides a blanket
of respectability and security while keeping another
partner who can meet their emotional and physical needs.

Having
grown up on a combined diet of romantic Hindi films
and the Western notion of love and marriage, I want
a balance that reflects
my complex bicultural landscapes of romance and pragmatism,
a partner with whom I have space to move and grow as
an individual, a sexuality of my own. I understand the
desire of some in my community to remain in a socially
sanctioned marriage that provides a blanket of respectability
and security while keeping another partner who can meet
their emotional and physical needs. People remain bound
to arranged marriage either because they choose to,
or they see no alternative. I imagine that adultery
in an arranged marriage in which there is a tacit understanding
between partners must be very much like an open relationship
in the West, but with the difference of a culturally
induced commitment to stay together. For those of us
caught between cultures, this may be a happy compromise
between tradition and modernity.

Through
the years, I have danced toward and away from an arranged
marriage, tempted by the fruits of a practical companionship,
yet afraid of experiencing the bitter aftertaste of
a loss of independence. But I reserve the right to allow
experience and life to change my beliefs. Although there
are times when loneliness drives me to consider an arranged
marriage, I can't imagine that I will ever exercise
that option. I hope to find an Indian partner whom I
can love on my own. I don't know if I would commit adultery,
but I'd certainly consider it.

Jaishri
Abichandani is a founding member of the South Asian Women's
Creative Collective.